<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Signs of Confection by DistantStorm</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24723415">Signs of Confection</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/DistantStorm'>DistantStorm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dessert &amp; Sweets, Food as a Metaphor for Love, M/M, Pre-Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:42:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24723415</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/DistantStorm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A story in five segments about caf, tea, and the sweeter things that Thrawn enjoys.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>93</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Signs of Confection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is either going to be super great, or super bad. To be fair, I really wanted five little segments (hahahaha "little" - yeah, i'm a mess). If this falls apart midway, I apologize in advance. I mostly just wanted to write the bits about caf and tea. In any case, I hope you enjoy!</p><p>PS: I hardly proofread this, so apologies for the errors. I mostly wanted to fling this out into the open before I either forgot or lost the nerve since it's so different from my other Thranto story.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1.</p><p>It’s almost funny, Eli Vanto thought to himself as he caught the slightest discomfort across his new bunk-mate and unspoken charge’s face. A serious, composed, ultrapolite man like Thrawn balking at something as necessary as caf. The same altercation had been happening each morning and afternoon for about a week now. The stimulating beverage appeared to be necessary, considering the way Thrawn sipped at it while reading at lightning-quick speeds during their every free moment, trying to bridge the gaps in his education. Also, Eli didn’t have any evidence of Thrawn actually sleeping. Even if he woke in the middle of the night, the Chiss was still awake at their shared desk.</p><p>That couldn’t be healthy, but frankly, Thrawn had asked for this, and it wasn’t Eli’s problem unless there was an urgent translation he needed that couldn’t wait. (Which, again, considering Thrawn’s ultra-politeness that extended to the point of seeming condescending, hadn’t happened. Yet.)</p><p>Cadet Vanto went back to his breakfast, a boring mix of slop-like grains with enough vitamins to make it a paste. At least at Myomar they had fresh fruit. One would think that Royal Imperial would have had far superior dining facilities, since it was located on perfect Coruscant. There were just some things that Wild Space excelled at, and this was one of them. Even the latemeal, which was actual food was bland for the most part.</p><p>Blue fingers wrapped around the metallic mug for the umpteenth time. Eli pointedly didn’t look at him, but he couldn’t help but notice that the mug kept getting pushed further and further away with active disdain. Eli resolved to intervene, even as his inner voice reminded him that this was the man who had literally turned his entire life inside out. It was just for a little while, he told himself, squashing his uglier thoughts. He was obviously a long way from home, but Thrawn’s home was much further, and he certainly didn’t have any friends.</p><p>Besides, it was Eli’s job to babysi- his job to <em>acclimate</em> Thrawn to his new life in the Empire. Eli considered his own thermos. He could drink caf however it came, but he knew how he preferred it. He was willing to bet good credits, based on his knowledge of the Chiss’s food preferences, that the Lieutenant had a bit of a sweet tooth.</p><p>- x -</p><p>“Here.” Vanto held out the thermos, a deep maroon in color, a not-quite identical twin of the one he brought with him every day to the commissary. They’d been about to depart for the morning meal before a lengthy stint of classes and labs that would keep them occupied until the latemeal. </p><p>Intense red eyes flicked down then back up the short distance to his roommate’s eyes. Vanto had expected distrust, but Thrawn’s eyes gave nothing away but scrutiny. He took it, his long fingers icy cold where they brushed over Eli’s far warmer ones. He studied the thermos as the cadet turned away.</p><p>“Obviously you hate caf, but it’s a necessary evil, and there ain’t a tea leaf to be had in the Empire’s facilities-” Vanto winced at the prominence of the twang in his voice but continued anyway, “Probably it was the drink of the Jedi.” He opened their tiny shared closet, split in exact halves. Eli’s smaller uniforms hung to the left, Thrawn’s larger ones to the right, small lockers underneath to house any personal effects.</p><p>Crouching, Eli was vaguely aware of the looming presence of Thrawn, who still hadn’t said anything. He could see the shadow of the Chiss, the way he held the travel mug awkwardly, unsure what to do with it. “You noticed that I dislike caf,” He said, well, Eli thought, he more mused it to himself, but Eli was in the room too. </p><p>“I did,” He answered, interrupting whatever Thrawn was thinking. “Seems we have that in common. I’ll drink it if I have to - I certainly prefer them to stims - but I don’t like it.”</p><p>“You have it each time we’re at the commissary,” Thrawn commented, and that might have been an expression like surprise, but it was there and gone in the space between blinks.</p><p>“I do,” Eli confirmed. He pulled something from his locker. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” He said, rising to his feet and nudging the locker shut with his heel as he set the box in his hands on the desk. Inside were metallic pouches. Tons of them. “Put one in your belt-pouch for later, and dump one in the thermos.” He took point, grabbing his thermos from the desk and popping the top off of it. He ripped open one of the tiny packs and carefully emptied the contents into the thermos, then looked up at Thrawn.</p><p>“What is it?” Thrawn asked.</p><p>“Powdered chocolate and tang bark. Try it. You won’t regret it.” </p><p>Too polite to refuse, Thrawn took a single packet and dumped it into his own thermos, thanking Vanto as he did, though he still eyed the thermos dubiously. </p><p>When he dipped back into his locker to put the box back, Eli grabbed a few extra packets for later. He wasn’t sure of much when it came to his new bunkmate, but he damn sure wasn’t wrong about this.</p><p>Sure enough, when they had the fifteen minutes necessary to run through the mess between lectures that afternoon, he watched Thrawn eye the caf dispenser with disdain. Eli pulled the extra two pouches from his belt without so much of a word and set them beside Thrawn’s mug as he poured the dark beverage.</p><p>“Sometimes one’s not enough,” He offered as an explanation, then added, “This morning’s caf was better, but still not sweet enough for you.”</p><p>He couldn’t help the smile when Thrawn didn’t hesitate to take the two powdered cocoa pouches and tip them into his mug and resolved to make sure he left the box on their shared desk for easier access. Lost in his thoughts, Eli missed the look of purposely reserved interest Thrawn threw his way as he helped himself to his afternoon refill.</p><p>When their eyes met next, Thrawn offered him a grateful nod and deposited the three empty packets into the waste bin as they left. Their walk to their next lecture was as comfortable as it was silent. Eli never thought twice about the incident, or the way that cocoa-cut caf became the norm of Thrawn’s life in the Imperial Navy. </p><p>Thrawn did. He thought about it often, reflecting on it late one evening aboard his flagship, stylus flying across his datapad as he penned a journal entry about the value of having a friend, be they near or far.</p><p>2.</p><p>Most of the time, Thrawn’s (admittedly) genius plans tended to send them to obscure locations and land them in even more obscure situations. This time, however, they found themselves in a mid-sized city-center in the throes of celebration of some solstice or another. Stands and tents were set out in the streets, and the smells of festival food - fried and delicious - hung heavy in the warm air. </p><p>Ensign Vanto relished the heat, wearing a combination of canvas utility pant and a button-up shirt in creamy off-white that he’d left unbuttoned part way. “Kinda reminds me of back home,” He admitted, the conversation honest though it fit easily into their cover. Thrawn fit in here, more or less. There were many alien species interspersed throughout this Outer Rim world, and due to the brightness of the sun, Thrawn had been able to conceal his telling eyes with dark-tinted lenses for most of the day.</p><p>Now, however, it was approaching dusk, and the heavy tint did the captain no good. He tucked them into a pocket of his long-sleeved tunic, dark in color, but lightweight enough to diffuse heat. </p><p>“There are festivals like this on your homeworld?” Thrawn asked idly, scanning for signs of the smugglers whose ship they’d found earlier in the day at the meager, yet crowded spaceport. He turned back to regard Eli, the red-brown tone of his exposed skin deepening after a day in the sun. “You speak rarely of Lysatra,” He added.</p><p>“Not much happens there, sir,” Vanto supposed. “But we’re out far enough that a lot of things are the same world-to-world.” Thrawn’s eyes narrowed, so Eli prepared to unknowingly give him some kind of clue, thereby making Eli the butt of an unspoken joke for not being able to see the bigger picture. “Lots of folks planet-hop to make easy credits. People are more inclined to spend frivolously, and buy things they don’t need.” His brow furrowed, and he looked to Thrawn as he reasoned, “It’d be easy to doctor books or money launder that way, especially in the food industry.” There, Eli thought. At least he realized he was onto something. That was good, right?</p><p>Thrawn smirked so wide Eli almost called it a smile. Alas, it was too predatory. “I believe the majority of food vendors are located on the next block,” He said. “Shall we?”</p><p>In the end, Thrawn handled the authorities while Vanto carefully considered their options and his current credit situation. This was entirely too much like home. Vendors called out to him despite knowing he’d been part of the duo who created a real mess of this specific area of the festival hours earlier. Some of them heckled him for riling up the crowd and getting a fellow vendor arrested, hoping to guilt him into spending his credits. </p><p>He settled for procuring two very interestingly colored fruits that had been dipped in something that seemed to glitter when it caught the light. It almost resembled a candied jogan fruit, if not for the brilliant blue-green color of the fruit itself. The outer shell smelled sweet, and while it was hardly an acceptable alternative for the late meal, it was something easy to consume while they walked back to their shuttle.</p><p>When he held one out to Thrawn, the Chiss stared at it in obvious surprise. Then, unbidden, the smallest hint of delight crossed through his usually intense eyes as he took it. “Thank you, Ensign.”</p><p>Eli nodded. “You’re welcome, sir.”</p><p>“You did well,” Thrawn said, sometime after they’d started their rather innocuous walk back through the now lit bazaar. They easily maneuvered through the throngs of beings. “I rather suspected you would catch on to their scheming, though I had suspected it would have been one of the market vendors, not a food vendor.”</p><p>“We’re too far from the Core for everything to be on the books. Edible items are far easier to conceal, especially when they’re not dangerous. Makes it easier to adjust the records, I guess.”</p><p>“Again,” Thrawn praised. “An excellent deduction.” He cast a glance to the side as Eli chewed a bite of his own treat. “You should be proud of yourself.”</p><p>“Thank you, sir,” Eli said. “I’m just glad it was a chase and not bloodshed.”</p><p>“As am I,” Thrawn agreed. Slower, more thoughtfully, he said, “My people have similar celebrations like this for the solstice. There are variances,” He continues, but doesn’t expand upon those further. “It was rare that we were able to attend.”</p><p>“I suspect you didn’t grow up on a sparsely populated world. These kinds of things are about the only option for people to celebrate bein’ alive,” He drawled but didn’t flinch away at the sound of his own voice. “Back home it was an excuse to take some time away.”</p><p>“Do you miss it?” Thrawn asked, the intensity of his gaze dialed up. “Your homeworld?”</p><p>“About as much as you do, I’d suppose,” The human answered, biting into his candied fruit. “It’s nice to be planetside, but I’m starting to come to the realization that there’s nothing wrong with belonging to the stars.”</p><p>Thrawn covered his pensive frown with another tentative bite of the treat Vanto had procured for him, but he did not escape the younger man’s notice entirely. He was becoming too good at this, Thrawn realized. His skills had been improving. He need only stop doubting himself so much and he would likely exceed Thrawn’s expectations in time.</p><p>“I do not miss my people,” Thrawn said. “My duty is to the Empire.”</p><p>“There’s more to a person than duty,” Eli offered carefully, but he didn’t say anything more.</p><p>3.</p><p>Thrawn had noticed Vanto’s speech - more obviously, the lack thereof - over the last several days. He cleared his throat often before he said anything, trying to be quiet about it. It was also apparent that his body was running warmer than normal if one were able to see into the infrared, of course. No doubt his aide was working through some human-specific virus that did not find the far cooler Chiss biology to be a hospitable breeding ground.</p><p>Bringing it up to his aide on the bridge would hardly be appropriate, Vanto was the kind of man who preferred to remain under the radar- a term he’d explained to Thrawn that Thrawn rather liked. He too preferred to ‘fly’ under the radar, he supposed, though a free alien in an all-human military was never truly going to remain unnoticed.</p><p>Even so, Thrawn saw himself off the bridge of the Thunder Wasp with nary a word. Commander Chino didn’t spare him a second glance - no doubt he was reading some holo-novel he’d picked up at the last port, with an extra tab open as to be prepared if the helm had a question. Their patrol was routine, banal, and their Commander was hardly likely to notice him missing for the three minutes and twenty-six seconds it would take him to complete his task.</p><p>He was right.</p><p>Chino didn’t notice that he’d gone missing. Vanto did though, Thrawn could see it in the tense lines of the man’s back. Vanto was a good aide. Protective. He presented as a pushover but showed signs of that durasteel spine. He had an impeccable ethos. No doubt he was prepared to combat any untoward commentary by the crew regarding his unadvertised absence from the bridge, trusting Thrawn to have good reason. </p><p>Thrawn set a disposable cup down beside his console, only sparing him the quickest glance from the left corner of his eye. Curls of steam rose from the small opening of the lid, and the tip of a tea sachet’s labeling was tucked beneath the brim so that only the corner of it remained in sight. The scent was subtle, though Thrawn doubted his younger aide could smell much of anything with how congested he’d become as he returned to his own station closer to the helm.</p><p>The ensign waited exactly four minutes and thirty three seconds for the tea to cool to a temperature that would not damage his tongue, fingers curling around it as he continued his monitoring as assigned, his datapad connected to the terminal for later analysis. He didn’t acknowledge Thrawn, though he likely knew by now that Thrawn had already catalogued his flash of surprise followed by gratefulness. Thrawn not speaking to him meant no response was necessary, and the casual aloofness of the gesture hadn’t drawn the attention of the crew stationed around them. </p><p>What the ensign didn’t know was that the tea hadn’t come from the staff lounge. It had come from Thrawn’s personal stores, from a trader who dealt exclusively in rare blends - even some of the Jedi’s favorites, lost to time and hatred Thrawn wasn’t sure they exactly deserved but chose to ignore. It wasn’t quite Csillan tea, but it was a variant, one that tasted like crystalline blooms and sweet red fruit he’d yet to encounter in the empire. He’d added less sweetener than he’d normally allow himself since Vanto found a very diverse range of flavors palatable. If it had been Thrawn’s beverage, he’d have found it barely passable, and nearly a waste of rare tea.</p><p>He watched Vanto savor it for the next hour between monotonous events and a bit of extra curricular research into what may or may not have been Nightswan’s most recent activities. Vanto worked hard and tolerated far more than most. Such unnecessary sacrifices were most certainly worth it.</p><p>- x -</p><p>Eli had been hoarse for a week now. Thrawn has been away for yet another court martial, and once again Faro has been left alone and in charge of the Seventh Fleet. Faro hated it, always worried she’d break something that couldn’t be fixed before her commanding officer returned and would be subsequently nailed to the wall for it. Thrawn wasn’t like that, she knew Thrawn wasn’t like that, but she kept Eli close to her like a security blanket.</p><p>How he hadn’t gotten her sick yet was likely a result of way too many vitamin boosters on the commander’s part, but Vanto had neither the time nor energy to rile Faro up for nothing.</p><p>Finally, Thrawn’s shuttle is scheduled to come back, and the lieutenant commander can’t help but exhale in tandem with Faro. “I hope the debrief is quick,” He said, voice rasping and prickly but not unkind, “But,” He sighed, “I doubt it.”</p><p>“You’re welcome to go.”</p><p>Vanto’s eyebrows go up. “You want to subject yourself to him by yourself?” He cleared his voice when the volume gave out. “Since when?”</p><p>“He won’t care about the debrief, Vanto,” She drawled. “At this point it’d be stupid to contact him, and he’d be more worried about you taking ill. There’d be no debrief until he confirmed you to be alright.”</p><p>“Oh, not you, too,” He groaned, the sound rougher and more obviously pained. “He’s our commanding officer.”</p><p>
“Right, and you’ve been his other half since he joined the Empire,” Faro reminded him.</p><p>That irritated him because it meant she’d been listening to the Chimaera’s crew which tended to speculate wildly about anything and everything. She could make her own conclusions, ones that didn’t insinuate he was Thawn’s glorified house-partner and maid. Irritated, he said, “Which is why you keep me at your beck and call. I’m a scapegoat, and you feel less guilty about it because you realize he won’t be unnecessarily cruel to me if you throw everything on me.” He coughed into his elbow while holding up his other hand to keep her quiet. “Y’got another-” He broke off into another hoarse cough, his voice giving out just as the door behind them opened.</p><p>“Admiral,” Faro acknowledged.</p><p>Thrawn set a tall mug of tea on his desk in front of Eli and gestured for them both to sit while he readied his datapad.</p><p>‘How does he do that?’ Faro mouthed to Vanto.</p><p>“Thank you, sir,” Eli said after a swallow of the gifted tea. It was sweet like candy, almost syrupy in consistency, but ultimately soothing. He almost sounded normal for how few words he spoke.</p><p>“To answer your question, Commander,” Thrawn said, lifting his eyes from his datapad to regard Faro, “Lieutenant Commander Vanto’s dictated replies to my messages have required multiple manual revisions, leading to a longer than usual response time of approximately twenty seconds instead of the usual ten to twelve. It was the logical conclusion that the software was acting up because Vanto’s speech had been compromised, and you had not reported an injury to me,” He looked at her pointedly, “Thus he had to be ill.”</p><p>“I see, sir,” Faro said.</p><p>“Reporting me under the weather isn’t a thing you need to do,” Vanto chimed from beside her, fingers threaded together around his mug.</p><p>“On the contrary, I would have preferred to be aware,” Thrawn said, eyes never leaving Faro. “I would also encourage you to do your own research regarding the relations of our crew. Not everything is as the-” He broke off and said a word in Sy Bisti.</p><p>Faro flushed, wondering if perhaps he’d heard their conversation through the not so thick door to the officer’s corridor. </p><p>It took Eli a second to pick the right word for the conversation. “The equivalent in Basic that’s appropriate for discussion would be ‘watercooler,’” He said, looking to Faro, who very obviously knew what the word meant, unpleasant connotations and all. Maybe she spoke Sy Bisti too, Eli considered.</p><p>“Thank you,” He inclined his head to Vanto. “You understand,” He said to Thrawn.</p><p>That had a lot of connotations, but Faro was suitably chastised and nodded eagerly. “Understood, Sir.”</p><p>The debrief was long, but Vanto didn’t seem to mind being the passive observer and took notes. Faro noticed that Thrawn didn’t ask him anything unless absolutely necessary, a consideration that most commanders wouldn’t have for their staff. If they reported for duty, that was on them. At least, that was how it had always been. There wasn’t much of a human - well, she considered that a bit sardonically, looking at her very non-human superior officer - aspect to the Imperial Navy. Or the Empire, in general. Not that she’d be caught dead saying so.</p><p>When they were dismissed, she peeked into his tea mug. It wasn’t quite empty, but there was a whole lot of sweetener in the bottom of it. “How much did he put in that?” She asked Vanto in disbelief. “There’s enough in there that you should’ve had to chew it. Does he not know how to make tea?”</p><p>Vanto grinned a little sheepishly. “I like it just fine,” He said.</p><p>“He did that on purpose?” Faro asked, incredulously.</p><p>“It’s actually how he likes it,” Vanto admitted. “If you ever have a briefing without me, caf or tea, any kind, with so much sweet you empty the dispenser should win you some points with him.”</p><p>“Let’s hope that never happens,” Faro said under her breath as they parted ways.</p><p>Years later, she’d find herself dropping into the chair across from his desk with two mugs in hand, one blessedly black, tea, not caf for a change, and the other teeming with sweetener. Thrawn would accept it without a word, and his otherwise stressed visage would smooth for a moment when he realized she’d made it just as he liked.</p><p>“I thought he might have told you,” He would muse moments later, uncharacteristically forlorn, and she would have to sip her tea to brace herself. Thrawn hadn’t meant to speak aloud, she knew, just like she knew she wasn’t to bring up the ‘he’ Thrawn had mentioned. Instead, she would sit quietly, look at the artwork strewn around Thrawn’s office without really seeing it, and wonder when the hell it had all gone to shit.</p><p>4.</p><p>They’re not undercover. That’s what struck Eli as weird about the whole thing. They’re not undercover and Thrawn is on <em>leave</em>. Thrawn doesn’t take leave. Well, he did, but he was the sort to take leave to go on some undercover adventure tracking something that high command doesn’t want him to, so he instead stumbles onto it anyway by “coincidence.” It’s never like this, and Eli is concerned to say the least.</p><p>Thrawn knew it, too.</p><p>It was why he asked Eli to come with him, but neglected to explain the situation until they’d both filed the paperwork to excuse them. Eli was correct in suspecting Thrawn had an ulterior motive, but he was patient enough not to guess. After all this time, despite every bump and hiccough in their storied past, he trusted Thrawn to do what was best.</p><p>“I wish to send you away,” Thrawn said, in some upscale, dimly lit cafe, a piece of absurdly saccharine cake sitting in front of him. Being on leave, Eli had chosen some kind of custard-filled pastry with a flaky outside. He had split it two and put the smaller piece on the edge of Thrawn’s round plate without thinking much about it. Thrawn liked to try new things, and they had similar opinions on most desserts. </p><p>Eli hadn’t reacted to his words, hadn’t even let shock pass over his features. Somehow, he knew it had to be something bad. Thrawn took leave when he wanted to skirt the rules, when he was trying to act around the Empire’s clutches. “Well,” Vanto nodded once, consideringly, then met Thrawn’s eyes. “It can’t be anytime close to when we get back, unless you’re planning to make it look like you’ve killed me.”</p><p>“Commander Vanto,” He said, then shucked military formalities altogether, the subject matter too grim. “Eli, this isn’t a mission for-”</p><p>“I know,” Eli interrupted, and watched Thrawn lean back in the aesthetically mis-matched chair, inspecting him. “Was it Pryce?”</p><p>“Among others,” Thrawn said, squinting a little, as if trying to see that much deeper into Eli’s mind. “Did you know before?”</p><p>“No, no,” Eli relaxed back into his shorter chair. It was well-worn, and comfortable. The cafe had a few other patrons, but they were far from any occupied tables. “It was how you said it.” He shrugged. “You’re giving me a choice, and you were purposely ambiguous because it isn’t above board.”</p><p>Thrawn nodded, and Vanto got the hint that he was pleased, if still a little careworn. Slowly, methodically, he cut into the impressive piece of cake and took a bite. Chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and,  “I wish to send you to my people,” He said.</p><p>Eli nodded slowly, tipped his head back against the plush chair so that his gaze met the ceiling, then closed his eyes. “It’s a one way trip,” He mused aloud. Brought his chin back down, looked at Thrawn. “Isn’t it?”</p><p>“That may very well be the case.” In Thrawn-speak, that was an affirmative.</p><p>“Will my family know?”</p><p>Thrawn looked conflicted. Eli was almost touched that he had thought of it in advance, but at the same time, Eli knew the only reason Thrawn thought of it was because the answer would not be yes. “I-”</p><p>Eli held up a hand. “Do I have time to think about it?”</p><p>“Of course,” Thrawn agreed. “Time is of the essence, but this is not an order. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”</p><p>He knew that, though. Thrawn was used to being alone, to having no one to support him without ulterior motives. At least, he was, with one exception. “What would you do,” He had to ask, “Without me?”</p><p>Thrawn smiled at that, eyes bright with mirth. He took a larger than normal section of cake and coerced it over to Eli’s plate. “I am surprised you would ask.”</p><p>“Something tells me you’re not planning on returning to your people,” Eli said. “Call it a hunch.”</p><p>“Why would I? I serve the Empire.”</p><p>“Semantics, Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” Eli said, and he knew his pronunciation of Thrawn’s name was flawless. Thrawn’s expression was worth it as he helped himself to a taste of the cake Thrawn had bestowed upon him.</p><p>“Agree to go, and I will tell you everything I am able,” Thrawn retorted.</p><p>“I could say yes, then take it back,” Eli argued, for argument’s sake. He wouldn’t though. Even now, Eli knew he’d already made up his mind. Thrawn always had the bigger picture in mind. He wasn’t looking for status within High Command, he was looking for an answer to a question. Eli wasn’t quite sure what that question was, but somehow he got the feeling that whatever the answer was turning out to be wasn’t the one Thrawn had hoped for. This was a contingency. He was a contingency.</p><p>“You are a man of your word,” Thrawn said. “And regardless of what you may or may not have heard from Colonel Yullaren, you are the only one I would trust with this task.”</p><p>“Y’still didn’t answer my question,” Eli said, leaning into his drawl.</p><p>“I’ll answer yours when you answer mine,” Thrawn hissed, rather abruptly.  Eli heard the words but discerned the meaning. It was as snappish as if Thrawn had said the three words he absolutely hated and all but refused to say: I don’t know. The silence buzzed around them until he said, softer, “You do not need to concern yourself with me. I will be fine.”</p><p>“You and I both know that isn’t how this goes.”</p><p>“It will have to be, if you agree to this task.”</p><p>Eli smiled sadly. “You and I both know I’m goin’,” He murmured, rising. “So I’m going to get the rest of that cake to go, and we’re going to stop at a shop on the way back and get something to drink.” The something meaning something alcoholic didn’t go unnoticed by the Chiss. “Sound like a plan?”</p><p>Exhaling, Thrawn nodded. He looked down at the remains of Eli’s dessert, all but forgotten, then up at Eli. “You should think it over,” He said. “We do not have to discuss it right away.”</p><p>Technically, they didn’t. This had all been meticulously planned by Thrawn, of this, Eli had no doubt. He’d likely built in several days for Eli to make up his mind, and then separate contingencies both for and against his decision.</p><p>But Eli was sure. So he bought the other half of the cake and had two disposable utensils thrown into the bag, returned to the table they were sharing and lingered next to the chair while Thrawn finished his cake and the nibble of Eli’s abandoned pastry, and resolved to be braver than he felt for both their sakes.</p><p>It would be the last time either of them would eat cake within the Empire’s bounds. They had sat cross legged with the takeaway container between them on one of their oversized hotel room beds, slowly polishing off the extremely sweet confection as Thrawn unravelled layer upon layer of his plans, of what Eli would be expected to do. Somehow, after that, the look of some multi-layered cake, marbled with decadent, delicate layers of sponge between thick, homemade buttercream made something uncomfortable curl in Thrawn’s belly. He’d tell himself it was because they’d eaten themselves sick of it, if only to prevent himself from thinking about Eli.</p><p>5.</p><p>Csillan distilleries specialized in a distinctly sweet wine made of the icy fruit that grew in crystal-like pods and thrived in the cold. It’s black exterior yielded to a bloody red center that gave the wine its color. It had been decades since Thrawn had enjoyed this particular type of wine - any <em>true</em> wine, by his standards, really. The Empire considered sour and bitter flavors to be complex. It gave him an honest reason not to imbibe amongst his superiors, and the inclination only to sip at one singular glass if partaking was deemed necessary.</p><p>But that, <em>that</em> would no longer be necessary. He stepped around his admiral and approached the bar, inclining his head thoughtfully at the occasional officer or council-member who recognized him. He had no desire to discuss anything with anyone. His presence was mandated by the council, and his superior officer - who wished to share her suffering with her new first officer, of that he had no doubt - had seen to it that he did not dodge their request through some convenient loophole.</p><p>The wine was as spicy-sweet as he remembered, sampling a single swallow first: protocol, for these socially complex functions. The spicy bouquet hit like a rush before subsiding into a complex blend of unique winter-fruits: the result of a complex, but rewarding fermentation process. It was no surprise to Thrawn that the owner of these plants and the distillery itself was considered rich, even by the lavish terms of the Ascendency.</p><p>“Somehow I knew I’d find you over here,” A lightly accented voice said from behind him as the server let him consider. It was deeper, light and delicate around the less familiar consonants that filled the Chuenh language. “<em>Nahnactim’ven</em>,” He pronounced smoothly. Snowrise wine, a name it earned from old tales that said the fruits were sweetest and most palatable when picked before sunrise under falling snow. “It reminded me of that tea you always plied me with way back when,” They said, voice even and nostalgic.</p><p>“Vanto?”</p><p>There was a smirk on the younger man’s face, his dress uniform limned in gold so that the brighter color caught his eyes in the dim lighting overhead. “Hello, Thrawn,” He greeted, facing his former Admiral head on. His tunic was the deep blue color of a vice admiral. </p><p>The same as the one Thrawn wore himself. And then, he remembered. Earlier, Admiral Ar’alani had said she would introduce him to her fleet commander, with whom Thrawn would share duties, assuming they did not find Thrawn first...</p><p>When Thrawn had returned to the Ascendancy, it had been years since that fleeting last meeting between. Vanto had been gone. He had barely enough time between debriefings to familiarize himself with the people he had left behind. He’d thought of his former commander often, though. Considered it perhaps a mercy that Ar’alani would not tell him anything as to save him the realization that he was long dead, or perhaps sent off on some mission from which he might never return. He hadn’t been expecting this.</p><p>If the other man had not anticipated the embrace - stiff, and brief, but no less sentimental for it - he did not act surprised. Instead, Eli leaned into it for the few seconds it lasted, then stepped back, smiling.</p><p>Then, turning to the bar, the human managed to procure an entire bottle, face heating ever so slightly in the infrared as the server winked playfully in Thrawn’s direction. It was hardly noticeable amongst the rest of the crowd, their faces washed in warmth from the sheer number of people in the gala’s attendance and their own alcohol consumption. Thrawn found he didn’t really mind. It wasn’t anyone’s business, but if they didn’t notice, it would be due to their own inability to draw obvious conclusions.</p><p>“It’s good to see you,” He said over the din of the crowd, projecting an easy-going confidence as he held up the bottle and two empty glasses. He knew it wasn’t socially acceptable, either, but, Thrawn realized, his smile was bright and roguish anyway as he asked, “Maybe we could catch up?”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>